Prologue
She lay by the hedge curled up into a ball. Her body ached from the past eighty-four hours. Her leg was bleeding, badly. No matter how much effort she put into healing the wound, it wouldn't close. She had been attacked from behind, left to bleed out. The competition was tough—she had been aware that would be the case. They had prepared her for the dangers. But the betrayal, she was not ready for. She knew the darkness would come for her soon. She had been lying by the hedge for a few hours, her leg slowly becoming more and more numb. She was feeling light headed. She was feeling alone. She was feeling betrayed.
She turned her head to look down the path. No one was coming from the east. The west was behind her. She lifted her head and pushed herself up into a sitting position. With her back against the hedge and her head leaning back, she knew she would be able to at least see anyone coming her direction. She hadn't encountered a soul since the initial attack. But it was often common for competitors to return to see if their victims had truly been eliminated. She would know. She had done the same thing a few hours before.
Her eyes were fuzzy, but her surroundings slowly came into focus. It was nighttime, not quite to the time when the announcements were made but close enough for her to worry. They were precise with that, at least. The competitors were always informed how many were left in play. Death was never an option. They would punish you if a death occurred purposely by a competitor's hand. The word purposely was used loosely. However, seriously injuring a fellow opponent was fair game. And highly praised. Thus, she sat. Normally, or so she had thought, they were prompt with removing the seriously injured from the task. That way, they could be healed quickly and disposed of. But the injury she had inflicted on her opponent was not to the extent hers was. She had paralyzed him from the waist down, yes. But she knew he would be alive at the end of the task. Her own fate was uncertain.
She glanced down at her leg and winced. The cut was deep; her efforts to heal herself had backfired. Her left thigh was now three times the size of her right and there was a lot of blood. Still. She wiped her forehead, undoubtedly smearing blood and dirt over her face. At this point, she had no concern for her appearance. As long as she made it through this task she would be fine. She would sacrifice her leg as long as it meant she could live. There had been rumors surrounding the task about the accidental death in the last tournament. Of course the cause was known, how it had happened was mysterious. It was hushed up. It was not discussed.
She had counted the number of red sparks that had been released the night before. Three. Three red sparks were released into the air. Three champions left. Twenty-one were either permanently injured, dead, or missing. She didn't know. The red sparks didn't differentiate that. She was fairly positive they had never meant it to come to this. But it had. This was why the tournament had been stopped after last time. But it resumed under new ruling. That was the danger of the resumption of the game. It had been altered so severely, it had become a fight for survival. Only that hadn't been made clear before they had been chosen. Or after they had been chosen, either.
She heard a twig snap from the left. She slowly turned her head towards the sound. She was tired. She prayed it was her attacker, either coming back to permanently put her out or to revive her. She didn't know which she preferred. She didn't know if he was still alive. He had carried her through the process. He had made her likable when she knew she wasn't. He had made her desirable when she knew she wasn't. He had made her feel something, like this would be worth it if they could be together at the end. But that was too unimaginable.
The footsteps got progressively louder. Whoever it was was drawing near. A sound from the right made her head turn. Someone else was coming for her. She knew it was the end. She resumed gazing straight ahead, reassuring herself that she had done well throughout the past three days. She was okay with this. Though she'd never see her family again, most likely, she knew that it would be fine. She would be fine. The footsteps from the left became more frantic; they were louder. She closed her eyes, ready to face her attacker. The footsteps stopped. She kept her eyes closed, her breathing even. A voice spoke from her left.
"I didn't think you would still be alive."